Listen to the Water | FULL SERIES | Wattys 2022 Shortlist | ✔

(9) Taiki: An Older Prophecy

The smooth bone spear handle helps keep me calm as I tighten and loosen my hands around it. When a part of it gets too warm under my fingers, I move them. The water quickly cools the warm spots again.

Nothing happened when Ande sang.

It was strong, especially for someone who only learned the Song half a moon before. I'm sure it helped the people on the island, especially after Makeba stopped singing because she was too occupied, then Ruka because she needed her energy for healing, then Ushi because she got hurt... but Ande's song didn't feel any different from any of the Sandsingers'. It didn't do anything unique or new. When Ande sang, it wasn't the song of the Singer. It was just the Song.

It can't be just the Song.

A hand on my shoulder makes me startle so hard, I nearly drop the spear. It's Ande. Her face is always expressive, but right now, the concern in it makes my heart turn over. Do I have to tell her? Or does she already know? We move away from the Sandsingers. Keshko notices and starts to follow, but Ande shakes her head. Keshko moves back again. They don't look happy about it.

"Be careful," they sign before we leave, and Ande nods. Her hand drifts to her dagger and stays there. I can tell she's looking for a place where the villagers and Sandsingers won't be able to see us talking; she keeps glancing out into the water, where I know Loba and Fera are on patrol. We finally find an outcropping that hooks out and around, making a sheltered place beneath. Ande pulls me into it.

"You felt it, too, didn't you?" she signs. "Nothing happened."

What rolls over me at that a mix of relief of not having to tell her, and sinking confirmation that she felt the same thing. The remaining islanders will die without the Singer, and if it's not Ande... is Makeba right after all? Is the Singer not coming?

They have to. Andalua would not let so many of her people die above the water.

Ande catches my hands, and I realize they're twisting together again. I think she's asked me something. I didn't see what it was.

"Are you okay?" she signs.

I'm not. I'm shaky all over, and my heart is still going too fast. Small touches and noises make me jump. I've been in fights before. But I've never been the one attacking, and I've never heard the Song at full force. It was so much stronger than I was expecting. The kind of magic you feel more than hear; I'm not surprised Ande and Makeba, both Rashi-blessed, managed to pick it up so quickly. It touched on emotions I'd never felt magic touch before. It was the sun and the deep and the crashing, turbulent boundary between them. It was change, but in song form. Knowing that it was only a small part of the original Transformation song—Andalua's song—makes me cold all over. It's a reminder of just how powerful the goddess must be.

"Taiki." Ande pulls me back again, signing around my own fingers. It's too hard to meet her eyes right now, and I find mine darting over the rocks and the water, her fraying braids, and the shine of the scales on her tail. Then her grip on my hands softens. "What should we do?" she asks, releasing me for a moment. She's pleading.

I don't know what we should do. I can't think straight right now.

"What will happen?" she asks, a different question that I think I can answer better.

"The prophecy will end," I sign.

"Do all versions of the prophecy say the same thing about that end?"

"About the water rising?"

"Yes."

I nod.

"What about the Singer? Makeba says there were versions of the prophecy that didn't mention it."